


throw yourself in front of enough light and sooner or later you'll seem an angel

by riverbed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Feminization, Impact Play, Other, Spanking, Threesome, playing in others' sandboxes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6451852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverbed/pseuds/riverbed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>filled tumblr prompts, deleted scenes, and other things too short or narrow in concept to really be their own standalone or go elsewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. alex/john; nonsexual intimacy; comfort after a long day

**Author's Note:**

> just organized by chapters because i assume that's the easiest/least disorganized way to do this. some of these are inspired by others' fics and since there's no graceful way to gift it to all of them, and since they probably won't be interested in literally all of what i put here, i'll just note relevant info at the beginning of each chapter and hope for the best.
> 
> tags will get updated as i go.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked for lams nonsexual intimacy, and i started writing platonic lams but then realized they wanted real lams. here you go

John stares at the fading old tile on the wall. The bathroom is all steamed up, all warm and John considers what it’d feel like to just fall asleep in here and not get out. The consequences. It’s not a serious thing, he just thinks about it. It sounds pleasant.

His cocoon is cracked wide open when Alex opens the door to let light and cold air in from the hall. John groans and slides his body downward, mouth underwater, narrows his eyes. Alexander has sense and slips in quick, shutting the door behind him. “Hey,” he says. He sits on the edge of the tub and smiles meekly at John. John feels his frustration melt a little.

The day had been entirely too much. John’s been in this tub for like an hour but the water is somehow still miraculously warm. He’d used body wash as bubble bath, and he hopes his skin is all soft and soaked with it and lightly fragrant when he gets out. He plans on not drying off all the way, plans on just lying on top of the bedspread with his hair damp and his skin pruned and his muscles lax in blissful silence until he passes out. It’s a Friday. He realizes that might mean Alex wants to go out. He can go out alone. This has truly been a week from hell.

Alex’s smile hasn’t broken. He doesn’t even say anything else; without a word, he reaches over John and gets in the bath caddy, pulls out an expensive curl shampoo and pours it into his hands, then puts those hands in John’s hair. John immediately relaxes, and Alex pulls his head against his knees. His jeans are getting wet. John doesn’t care. He settles back against Alexander, who lets him, and when he’s washed his hair he conditions it, even lets it sit for a couple minutes, rubbing his shoulders and breathing in time with him. He lets John kind of hang on him as they walk to their bed; they leave towels on the floor. John could walk on his own if he wanted to but he’s so fucking tired and he’s not too proud to admit that he wants to feel Alexander next to him.

Alexander lays him down, gets out of his own clothes, pulls the blanket up over them. It’s cozy. John fits his head below Alex’s chin. Alex is doing this thing, running his palm up and down his upper arm. It feels nice, like a lullaby.

It’s like nine pm, at the latest. John thinks he hears himself snoring as he falls asleep. Alexander doesn’t even mention going out.


	2. washington/hamilton; feminization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> logically follows [Beating Me, Mistreating Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6311137) by whatareangelheadedhipsters before they wrote part 2 of that series
> 
> warnings: really fucked up and Explicit pwp

He presses his legs together, so his thighs are tight, hopes they're slick enough with his own come to prevent chafing and steels himself for the drag of Washington’s cock between them.

But Washington’s hand drifts up, instead, resting on the highest point of his ass, and dips into the cleft, and Alex turns over his shoulder sharply, gives Washington an arch look.

“Good girls don't let their asses get fucked.” He echoes Washington’s own words from their first encounter. Post-release, his head is clear enough to recall information. He'd assumed Washington wasn't interested in that, for whatever reason; maybe the girlishness thing was too much to ignore (Alex knows his hips are slim, his eyes doey) or maybe he just wasn't into ass. Alex has been with plenty of guys who’d thought it was overrated. He's never questioned it; he just lets Washington use the rest of his body.

Behind him, Washington hums. “You're right.” And he leans down, spits on Alexander's hole. Filthy. Alex gapes, shocked. “But you're not a good girl, are you, Alex? You’re going to let me in that ass. You're going to beg me for it. Aren't you?”

Alex shudders. Washington’s thumb is at his entrance. It's thick, and he hasn't been fucked in months.

He drops his head. When he speaks, it comes out as a ragged, defeated whisper. “Yes,” he says.


	3. alex/john/lafayette, impact play; stopping when alex doesn't expect it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked for "Something in the Laurens/Alex/Lafayette verse? Maybe where Alex wants to keep getting belted/caned/whatever, but Lafayette tells him he's done?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: Impact play with implements, subdrop

Alex only realizes it’s over when John kisses his wrists.

He’s still bracing himself for the next impact, but John’s rubbing the feeling back into his shoulders where they’d been strained, kneeling in front of him and raising his wrists in turn to press his lips softly to the insides of them. The softness is jarring; he wriggles his hips, chasing the fresh pain there, still wondering vaguely where Lafayette’s belt has gone, hoping this is just a break.

But Alex hears Lafayette moving around behind him, and that usually means he’s closing up shop; Alex whines, swimming through the tears in his eyes to focus on John. Pouts at him.

“You’ve had enough, sweetheart,” John says quietly, brushing hair back from where it’s stuck to his cheek with tears. Alex smacks his lips, tastes salt. He can’t speak - he’s too far under, John should know that, Lafayette should know that, Lafayette should _beat_ him, he’s in the perfect space, Lafayette should _keep going -_

His eyes widen when broad hips come into his field of vision behind John, and he works his hand, unable to really make it grasp anything but his fingertips brush John’s shoulder, and John reaches up and takes his hand, squeezes. He turns his head, presses another kiss into the center of Alex’s palm.

Lafayette’s voice is a shot through the tiny window into his painstakingly constructed little dreamworld, though it’s as sweet as ever, lilting like a carousel song through the room. “Bored of serving you, Alexander. Time for you to show some gratitude.” Alex can’t look up to see Lafayette’s face, but he’s palming the hard line of his cock through his trousers where it rests against his thigh and that’d normally be enough for Alex, but he doesn’t really want to think about focusing on getting his mouth around that right now, doesn’t want to have to focus on anything but the burn of leather painting his skin with fire. He finds his voice, whines mournfully.

“We are done with that, Alex.” John rises to let Lafayette get closer, and Alex panics for a moment before he sits on the table beside him and a hand goes to his crown, still for a moment as an anchor before he starts petting him. His hair is sweaty, he knows, gross, and his face is hot, red, covered in tears, and he knows that’s just how Lafayette likes him, but he usually doesn’t drop him so abruptly, and he usually doesn’t make him suck him off so soon after. John must have reassured him that he could take it, that he could do without the gentling. Maybe John’s testing him to see if he can. He feels his chest swell with hope; he wants to make John proud. He opens his mouth like a good boy, drops his jaw nice and loose and sticks his tongue out over his bottom lip, looks up through his wet lashes. Lafayette’s posture relaxes as he shifts. “There’s a pretty whore,” he growls, and John makes a tutting noise - he doesn’t particularly love it when he calls Alex names, but he doesn’t seem committed enough to correcting Lafayette right now. His hands tug through Alex’s hair a little more quickly, kneading at the strands like a cat, picking them up and laying them back down again. It’s soothing, and Alex feels his head clear up a bit. He’s climbing the rungs back up to normalcy, but he’s still bent over the desk and the position is one for being hit in and his body resists Lafayette’s cock as it’s shoved into his mouth; he gags, and Lafayette hisses, pulls back.

He grabs Alex’s chin, pulls him roughly upward, ignoring John’s protests. Lafayette enunciates slowly, like he’s speaking to a stupid child. “Little Alex,” he says, a warning, eyes boring into Alex’s, and Alex studies him for the first time all night. He looks wrecked. Alex usually doesn’t get to see him until long after they’ve finished, because he takes so long to float back up, takes John so long to coax him through their aftercare routine and get some water in him and Lafayette is usually pretty uninterested, usually doing his own thing and letting John handle him. Alex decides he likes this; he’d known he liked being observed, but he’d had no idea he liked watching back. Seeing what beating him actually does to Lafayette is something else.

Lafayette pats his cheek - not a full slap, but a reminder - and Alex opens his mouth again, closes his eyes this time so he can focus. And this time, when Lafayette sinks into his throat, it flutters open for him, and he hums when John tightens his fingers in his hair to hold him in place. His chest is flat against the desktop and he’s not quite coherent enough to get a whole breath in through his nose, but it doesn’t matter - John is making these little noises of approval, and Lafayette is panting as he generously lets Alex work his tongue over the head of his cock, and Alex is happy, his welts still singing and his throat raw and with tears drying on his cheeks, still coddled with so much attention paid to him at once.


End file.
